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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28279509">saturday inertia</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/watername/pseuds/watername'>watername</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>SHINee</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Fingering, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Multi, Sleepy Sex, Threesome - M/M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 22:35:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,164</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28279509</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/watername/pseuds/watername</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>There’s more than one way to wake someone up, and Minho has his blood thrumming already, from the run, from the gentle intimacy of showering with Kibum, so perhaps he’s thinking more southwards than he should, but so he goes - propelling back into bad, ignoring Kibum’s noise of offense. He positions himself against the headboard and draws Jinki against his chest with little resistance - the older man gravitates towards warmth, towards tender touches and easy affection - and it’s a natural thing to push his legs open, to splay his fingers across that dusky skin, that particular thatch of hair, and watch Kibum’s eyes darken. </i>
</p><hr/><p>onminkey sleepy domestic sex</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Choi Minho/Kim Kibum | Key/Lee Jinki | Onew</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>32</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>saturday inertia</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A Saturday, Kibum claims very fervently, is for relaxing. Jinki would serve as a handy example for his case, the earlier the better: facedown into the pillows, the marks of heavy sleep running up his cheek whenever either Kibum or Minho comes in to shake him awake. </p><p> </p><p>Minho would tolerate their teasing well enough - once Jinki was properly caffeinated, of course - but nothing they’ve said has quite managed to stop him from his early morning habit of going for a run. There’s freedom in it. He’s especially partial to the foggy mornings, the early sunlight too weak to break it apart. The cool of it settles pleasingly on his skin, dissipating against the hot sweat that’s formed by the end. </p><p> </p><p>The high of the exercise is buoyed further by what is the usual greeting on his return home: Kibum, freshly showered, appealingly grumpy at Minho’s relentless dedication. The smell of his shampoo, the warm wetness of the air, envelops Minho whenever he is fast enough on his run, or Kibum lazy enough in his ablutions, for Minho to interrupt his own wake-up rituals, to slip inside the bathroom. He will sneak a kiss against Kibum’s cheek, neck, the warring desire to press against whatever part of him is handiest versus whatever is the likeliest to earn a complaint about Minho’s sweaty state.</p><p> </p><p>It’s a rare, rare Saturday for Jinki to not be the last of their triad to wake up. With time it’s become a point of fond familiarity.  </p><p> </p><p>Kibum could tease him about how they all work hard (true enough), but that Minho never has to pull Kibum bodily from bed (not as true as his tone would make it out to be). He could, but he won’t. The ground is too well-tread, for one, and he simply doesn’t have it in him to bite at Jinki for his indulgences. </p><p> </p><p>(Minho is equally incapable of teasing Jinki for this fault, far too soft for their eldest, too doting by a half. He has no aspirations to hide his warmth, his tenderness.)</p><p> </p><p>Regardless of the reasons they give, rare is it for either of them to break this ritual. Kibum will lure Jinki out with the smell of coffee brewing, begun while Minho takes his turn in the shower. Or, perhaps, Minho will wrap his arms around him and walk him to the couch, where the slow accumulation of sound will eventually stir him to wakefulness.</p><p> </p><p>In either eventuality, Jinki’s form for a good portion of the morning is a pile of blankets, a pair of socked feet sticking out, a mug gripped in a half-hidden hand, his hair sticking out at crazed angles. It is one part of their triad, their relationship developed in fits and starts that has long since settled into well-earned domesticity. Minho will return home, pleasantly awake, revived by activity; Kibum will bring their home to life, leaving marks of his precision in the bathroom, the kitchen, the bedroom; and Jinki will be a comforting heartbeat, a cocoon of warmth and sleepy affection.</p><p> </p><p>This particular Saturday is due to be an exception, with Jonghyun and Taemin coming in to visit for the weekend, planned to arrive around midday. This information is courtesy Jonghyun and their last layover, promising timeliness, and a request for immediate food. </p><p> </p><p>At the very latest, they should leave by 10. Minho gets back from his run at 8, a little later than normal, a concession to the later night, but promisingly started out. When he had left at 7, Kibum was already rousing and had sloppily aimed a slap at Minho’s ass as he maneuvered his way over Jinki’s prone body. He was sure by the time he had returned, Kibum would have gotten the ball rolling with their eldest. </p><p> </p><p>But when he heads into the shower, it’s dry as a bone, like Kibum failed to get up, or - more likely - something terrible happened to keep him from his morning routine. </p><p> </p><p>A quick check in the bedroom, finds the solid lump that is Jinki, and Kibum pacing and periodically shaking him. </p><p> </p><p>“He’s being ridiculous. And he’s supposed to be the eldest?” he gripes at Minho - but even so he’s not saying it to Jinki himself, one of those small signs of softness he tries to pretend he doesn’t have. </p><p> </p><p>“I’ll get him,” Minho says, and Kibum sniffs at that too. </p><p> </p><p>“You’re sweaty,” and he has a point.</p><p> </p><p>“Join me, then,” he says, because Kibum hasn’t showered either, even as he’s managed to brush and floss already, the minty afterbreath. </p><p> </p><p>He huffs - he will always huff - but casts a warning glance at Minho. He laughs and does little more than graze his fingertips along Kibum’s shoulder blades, kiss his temple as he reaches past him for the soap as they wash together. There’s carefully nothing more intimate initiated or teased out - but that wasn’t the point, the point was to slowly pry apart Kibum’s irritation until it lost its fuel, until he could uncurl the tight fist of his frustration. </p><p> </p><p>When they step out, and Kibum is meticulously drying the tender stretch of skin beneath his ribs, Minho rubs his hair with the towel and considers Jinki’s half-hidden body from the bathroom.</p><p> </p><p>“What are you going to do? Carry him to the train?” Kibum asks, a thin thread of honest curiosity invading his sarcasm. </p><p> </p><p>Minho shrugs. They don’t have a huge amount of time, but he takes a moment to watch as Jinki snuffles and throws back the covers, in likely deference to the sunlight, and the steamy warmth of the shower, that has begun to infiltrate the room. It’s cute, but Kibum is fair to be frustrated, but Minho knows that any effort to wake Jinki up has to be of a certain caliber, especially if they are going to be travelling and entertaining their friends well into the night. </p><p> </p><p>His mind still buzzing away, Kibum’s regular clattering, Minho’s eyes catch on the pull of Jinki’s boxers as he shifts to the side, the draw of his knee closer to his waist. The thin material so moved, it reveals the expanse of his thighs, the hair in dark thatches that become almost invisible against the duskiness.</p><p> </p><p>There’s more than one way to wake someone up, and Minho has his blood thrumming already, from the run, from the gentle intimacy of showering with Kibum, so perhaps he’s thinking more southwards than he should, but so he goes - propelling back into bad, ignoring Kibum’s noise of offense. He positions himself against the headboard and draws Jinki against his chest with little resistance - the older man gravitates towards warmth, towards tender touches and easy affection - and it’s a natural thing to push his legs open, to splay his fingers across that dusky skin, that particular thatch of hair, and watch Kibum’s eyes darken. </p><p> </p><p>“We don’t have time,” he protests, and Minho doesn’t really have an argument for that, so he instead concentrates on ingratiating his circled thumb and index beneath the hem of Jinki’s boxers. He finds the tip of his cock and envelops it, gently closing the circle into a squeeze. </p><p> </p><p>“It’ll be quick,” Minho says, and Jinki’s eyelids are already fluttering, and Minho can see it in Kibum’s face, that quarrel between concession and stubbornness and which would be more satisfying.</p><p> </p><p>“More fun,” he continues, and as if on cue and in support of Minho’s argument, Jinki moans, his back bonelessly slumping against Minho’s chest.</p><p> </p><p>“Fine,” Kibum snaps, but when he approaches, when he starts to handle Jinki’s legs, he can’t help but let the facade slip in the way he tugs lightly. He leans up, in what would be a looming stance for any situation less domestic, and lays a large hand against Jinki’s face.</p><p> </p><p>“Jinki - <em> Jinki </em> - “ he says. He shifts against Kibum’s palm, his lips drawing against his wrist, a imprecise kiss. “Can we - ?”</p><p> </p><p>He doesn’t quite get the words out, for the twofold reason that Jinki lifts his hips in stuttering intention, drawing Minho’s circled fingers down to the base of his cock, and in the same motion turns his head to the side, capturing Kibum’s hand between Minho’s shoulder and his face. Kibum can feel his heavy, rickety breath. His free eye opens and searches to find Kibum’s face, to meet his gaze for the moment necessary for Kibum to feel confident in his awareness.</p><p> </p><p>With that, he uses his free hand to start the work of pulling Jinki’s boxers down, Minho assisting as best he can from his impaired side. When Jinki’s cock is freed, bobbing in front of Kibum, Minho looks at him, clearly expectant to descend, to either join their hands around his cock, or perhaps to use his mouth, wicked and sharp in pleasure they both know well.</p><p> </p><p>It’ll be neither, Kibum has decided, moving back and rearranging Jinki’s legs so he can pull the boxers off entirely. Once done, he pushes at the back of his knees, slow to avoid strain. </p><p> </p><p>Minho catches on, and catches hold, halting his busy tending of Jinki’s cock. He instead helps to hold Jinki’s legs up, spread them open and wide in a way that makes the older man quake in sleepy anticipation.</p><p> </p><p>Direct, for a multitude of reasons, Kibum licks his index finger and begins tracing the outer rim of Jinki’s hole. The bare suggestion of it invokes a whine, an aborted twist of the hips, and Kibum can feel the air in the room start to tighten, to close into their small, self-contained world.</p><p> </p><p>“We’re going to hurry, aren’t we?” Minho says. His voice is already roughened with the pleasure of observing, from having Jinki squirm against the cage that is his body. Kibum is almost certain his cock must be pushing to be realized, a firm length against Jinki’s hip, but they’ll both be going untended to. </p><p> </p><p>His finger, having circled multiple times around the arm, begins its exploration within, millimeter by millimeter. It’s out of no contrary desire getting the better of Kibum, to tease things out, but rather by knowing Jinki intimately well. The gradual rising tide of sensation will, nerve by nerve, alert him to his own body, making it impossible for him to ride the crest of orgasm, and fall back to sleep.</p><p> </p><p>That’s the pragmatic reason, the reason he will give if either of his partners asks, but just as true is the keen sense he has, of wanting to satisfy and please the ones he loves. </p><p> </p><p>Jinki is mewling, his sleepiness being methodically dissipated in sensation. They are small noises, helpless and drawn out past their capacity. Kibum holds him open for the space of a breath, and adds another finger, pressing solidly against his walls.</p><p> </p><p>“Almost there,” he says. It would be casual, but they all know better than that, even Jinki, squinting up at him, unintelligible pleas dying on his lips. Kibum leans forward, lets his other hand find the base of his upright cock, rubbing gently, insufficient on its own.</p><p> </p><p>It’s not on its own, however, as his other hand has the busy lengths of his fingers, motioning within him. They stretch apart from each other, creating a challenging, choking width that leaving Jinki wanting more, spurs him to inch downwards in an effort to give Kibum more access. Minho chuckles against his head, pressing his lips against his bedhead.</p><p> </p><p>At last, the moment comes, the accumulations of small pleasures prove too much. The final pieces of Jinki are lit up with stimulation; he shudders and breathes and squirms, as Kibum works his fingers deep inside him. They press, precise and knowing, and set him off, spurting out into a hot pool twisting across his stomach and hip. </p><p> </p><p>Minho breathes with him in the moments after, as Kibum carefully removes his fingers, reaching over both of them to a nearby tissue box and wiping them clean. </p><p> </p><p>Jinki blinks quietly, only murmuring a thanks as Kibum grabs another sheet and hands it to Minho to start to wipe up the mess. He looks around the room, a pinkish color on his cheeks as he sees the clock, as Minho finishes and Kibum removes himself off the bed. </p><p> </p><p>“Didn’t - “ he starts, suddenly shy and wide-eyed. “Didn’t we have to go soon? Are we late?”</p><p> </p><p>Kibum sighs, shaking his head in mock disbelief, but Minho laughs, endlessly tender. His hands cup beneath Jinki’s ears, and he rocks him forward to press his lips firmly against the forehead. </p><p> </p><p>“Not yet. Let’s get going, okay?”</p><p> </p><p>Jinki nods in amiable agreement. Minho’s lips slide up into his hair at the movement, while Kibum suddenly sits on the bed next to him. </p><p> </p><p>“This is the thanks I get?” he complains, and Jinki turns to him with a bashful smile. He leans forward, but Kibum is already there, already taking the kiss long overdue. Minho kneels to wrap his arms around both of them, his heartbeat rhythmic against Jinki’s back, his hands clasped softly atop Kibum’s neck. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>this was originally supposed to be written for kinktober, but that did not happen.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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